


like a thief in the night to grab

by thunderylee



Category: Japanese Actor RPF, NewS (Band)
Genre: Bondage, Canon Universe, Dubious Consent, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, psycho obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: What once was imagination is now bleeding over into reality, but she doesn’t know the difference.





	like a thief in the night to grab

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

He gives a new meaning to the phrase ‘driving one crazy’.

His smiling face shines up at her from the glossy paper, all teeth and hair and innocence and mystery. Pictures of him litter her walls, better than the pages from any magazine, her own Polaroids tacked up haphazardly and mostly out of focus because she hasn’t quite mastered the art of running and using a camera at the same time. She goes to great lengths to acquire his schedule and plan her routes accordingly; he looks his best when he doesn’t know he’s being photographed.

Tracing his features, she licks her lips and wonders what his would taste like, if they’d be chapped or idol-soft with a lingering trace of Carmex or perhaps his last cigarette. She knows he smokes, has seen him sneak out the back door of numerous photoshoot and filming locations, the courtyard of Johnny’s corporate building, the balcony of his own apartment.

And Maki thought she had picked this place because of the move-in specials. Meisa’s room faces the west, just up and to the right of a certain NEWS member’s apartment across the back alley. Early in the morning is the best time, when she’s hidden by the rising sun and the object of her affection is clad only in a robe.

It’s nothing perverse; he usually keeps his curtains closed, even in the summer, and Meisa waits until she lowers her binoculars before her fingers make their way between her legs. He looks better behind her eyes anyway, pure and sparkly with eyes only for her.

They’re on her right now, but they’re big and scared and remind her of Bambi. She frowns at him, regretful that she didn’t get to taste his lips before she had to gag him with his own tie. He just wouldn’t shut up, screaming his head off, and she didn’t quite care for the words that were coming out of his mouth. He’s a liar anyway; an erection is still consent.

She purrs as his eyes roll back in his head at the press of her palm between his legs. He likes that, makes a choked noise, and perhaps she might be able to remove the chains from his wrists after all. The only downside to bondage is that she has to do all the work. Smiling down at him, promisingly, she rubs him through his pants and watches his face, his internal battle visible as he tries to keep from letting it show.

“You’re prettier when you’re conflicted,” she tells him, all air and no meaning, leaning down to steal a kiss from his neck. His skin shudders under her touch, the incessant throb of his jugular that has her wishing not for the first time that it was possible to become a vampire. Scraping her teeth is good enough for now and he arches, hardens even more in her hand and she chuckles. He likes it a little rough.

Sliding her lips up his neck, she starts to unfasten his belt and licks the lobe of his ear. His length is heavy in her hand and he looks like a debauched salaryman, tails of his neatly-buttoned white shirt framing the hard cock that sticks out of the open fly of his slacks. He whimpers when her touch leaves him, her fingers resting on the tie that’s stuffed in his mouth.

“I want to take this out,” she whispers in his ear, “but I don’t want to hear those mean words about me. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

He nods hard enough to knock her away, the fear returning to his eyes as she straddles him and glares downwards. Slowly she tugs on his tie, the fabric slipping from his mouth and revealing those lips. Before he can speak, she dips her head and claims them, drinking up his anxiety as well as his taste. Smoke and mint, rough texture, yet his tongue is hot and thick as it pushes its way into her mouth. She’s surprised at the ferocity of his kiss, once again considering releasing his hands to touch her, hold her steady as he fucks her, her center aching at the possibility.

But she can’t chance him getting away. It was a nice thought but this way she’s in control, straddling his thighs as she pulls a condom from her cleavage. He kisses her harder as she rolls it on, he’s really into it now, the sound of the chains clinking against the ground as he struggles to get out of them. Giggling against his lips, she leans up on her knees and situates herself over his lap, sinking down on his cock that is forced inside her, filling her and igniting that fire deep within.

He makes a sound like a strangled moan and she rocks her hips, seizing his mouth as she uses her body to fuck herself on him. She’s glad that he had cowered himself into a corner, the walls holding him up and in place because she cannot be bothered with keeping him stable on top of everything else. His kissing falls lax but that is to be expected; Meisa can hardly control her breathing and ends up with her face in his neck, hissing into his skin as she takes him in over and over again.

A grunt escapes with every one of his breaths, and if she tries hard enough she can imagine that he’s saying her name. There’s a noticeable jab as he pushes up inside her, meeting her efforts in tandom but that might be in her head too, just like the soreness on her hips that would come from his thumbs digging into the bone, yet she feels it with each undulation.

Her eyes are open but she doesn’t see his face for what it really is, only doting eyes fighting to stay open enough to look up at her, relaxed features with the only tension being the kind spawned by arousal. A heated stare that she can feel in her toes, backed by emotion that warms her all over. Her touch becomes gentle, fingers sliding up into his hair and stroking through the soft strands, cradling his head like it’s something delicate that she doesn’t want to break.

“Shige,” she breathes, the name both foreign and natural on her tongue, and he twitches below her because in reality, she hasn’t been given permission to use his first name yet.

She hasn’t been given permission to fuck him either, so that’s not much of a valid argument.

“Say my name,” she orders, her hand tightening in his hair, her threat tingling the back of his skull.

“M-Meisa-san,” he sputters. His voice is deep and rich, albiet a bit shaky, but she can overlook that part in favor of how he feels inside her.

That’s what’s important, anyway. Riding him hard enough to feel like thrusting, she loses more and more of her mind that was already a little distorted. She wishes she could see them right now, imagines what they must look like, him tied up and helpless on the floor with her straddling his waist and bouncing up and down while clutching onto him. Clinging, her face in his neck, the faint scent of his body wash clogging her senses as she holds him close.

She would have set up her webcam to record them, but then she would have to look at his real expressions.

She leans back on her heels, clutching the collar of her low-cut shirt to her chest as she makes him hit her right where she wants it. She feels herself reach the edge, reaching down and twisting his tie in her fingers just for something to hold onto, and she focuses her eyes just in time to see his head fall back and his mouth fall open with a long, drawn-out groan, his length pulsing inside her as her muscles tighten in orgasm.

The clarity afterwards is almost enough to pop her bubble of oblivion, she’s always hated this part, but luckily she’s too sated to give much thought to what little conscience she has left. “Mm,” she mumbles, lifting off and slumping to the side as she uses the last of her effort to tuck him back into his pants. “You love me now, right?”

He tenses again, his breath quickening to audible levels when it should be calming. “Um.”

“Right?” she coos, making a fist in his hair.

His face shows how much it hurts, but all she sees is that sweet smile. “Yes, of course.”

“Good.”

She can’t reach her baseball bat from where she’s sprawled out on the floor, but she bumps into the cord of her lamp and it serves the purpose, effectively falling off the nightstand and right onto Shige’s head. Or she may have guided him towards it, whatever.

He slumps into her arms, his heartbeat falling even, and she kisses the bump on his forehead.

In the living room, Maki just shakes her head and helps drag him downstairs and into the alley between their buildings, where he’s deposited by the dumpster and will undoubtedly wake up thinking it was all a dream. Then Meisa links arms with her best friend and treats her to mochi ice cream, the perfect nightcap to her evening of satisfaction.

Maki is just happy that Meisa didn’t try to put him in the washing machine this time.


End file.
